


Mistress Claus

by WhenLifeGivesYouLemons



Series: Mistress Claus [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Lysa's a bitch, Song Inspired, Unhappy marriage, University aged Sansa, slight daddy kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-09 07:27:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8881339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhenLifeGivesYouLemons/pseuds/WhenLifeGivesYouLemons
Summary: Petyr gets roped in to be Santa at the company Christmas party - who is on his naughty list?





	1. Don't wanna hear it from Mrs. Claus

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be a one-shot but I had too much fun writing ;)

Petyr had barely been in the door five minutes before Lysa started berating him. While it was always her routine, with Christmas approaching it had taken on a new kind of fervour – as soon as he got home from work, she’d list off all the things he’d missed while he was out of the house: gossip about who was attending which parties (and who wasn’t), hints about what other husbands were buying their wives for Christmas, the latest toy Robin was demanding from Santa.

Lysa was simultaneously involved in everyone’s business in the town of King’s Landing as well as shunned, and she saw her recent marriage to Petyr Baelish as her opportunity to be the grand and imposing housewife she had always aspired to be.

But Lysa’s usual attempts to pull Petyr in to her daily drama was met by his usual meticulous side-stepping. He assured her where she needed to be assured (they were, indeed, going to the most parties of any couple in King’s Landing), charmed where she needed to be charmed (she needn’t worry, his gift would put all other husbands to shame), and held his ground where she was unreasonable (Robin was already getting far too many presents).

He was about to head to his study, as he usually did once his job of indulging his wife was done, when she caught him off guard with one final request:

“Oh, and by the way dear,” she called as she was stirring a pot on the stove, “Cersei called this afternoon – she and Robert had to drop out of pictures with Santa tomorrow afternoon at the company party.”

Her words made Petyr pause in the doorway – something in her tone of voice hinted that this was not the end of the story.

“…And?” he eventually replied.

“Well, you know Ned and Cat aren’t down until next week, and it’s such short notice… And Cersei was saying how other couples take on so much volunteer work on behalf of the company…”

For once, Petyr was silent, and his eyes were wide as he turned back to look at his wife.

“Lysa… what did you say?”

“Petyr, darling, I said that you could do it of course! You are not doing anything important tomorrow, and Cersei was so desperate, how could I not! And you are so good with children, Petyr, they all love you, and it will look so good to the other families that you are volunteering.”

Lysa was practically beaming at her success… Petyr, on the other hand, looked like he was dead inside. “Lysa, I’m not wearing the fat suit.”

“Don’t be stupid, of course you have to wear the fat suit, how would you look like Santa if you didn’t? You’re as skinny as a twig. I called Ros and she is already picking up the costumes, and I asked her if she would wear the Mrs. Claus one but she’s heading off to Spain or somewhere ridiculous…”

“Wait,” Petyr interjected, cutting off Lysa’s rambling, “you’re _not_ coming?” he said incredulously.

Lysa huffed, apparently annoyed that she was meeting so much resistance, and said impatiently, “No, Petyr, I have to take Robin to his school play costume fitting tomorrow, he’s one of the donkeys you know, I’ve told you a million times, so you’ll have to find someone else to go with you!” and she glared at him, accusingly, as if it was his fault that he hadn’t figured out all the details of the disaster she had planned. 

With the two of them glaring at each other, it was then that Sansa couldn’t take it any longer. From her vantage point on the sofa, she peeked her head over the backrest and said, “I’ll go with you Uncle Petyr.” 


	2. The lights were shining bright on a Saturday night

Sansa Stark was staying at her Aunt and Uncles house while on winter break. She had just finished her first semester at King’s Landing University, and instead of heading back North to Winterfell, the Starks had decided to all come south for Christmas. They were all arriving next week, which meant Sansa had a chance to observe her Aunt and Uncle in their natural environment undisturbed by the rest of her family.

And they were an interesting pair. Lysa, as Sansa already knew, was insane – dimwitted, spiteful, ambitious, and obsessed with the social hierarchy of King’s Landing. Petyr, on the other hand, had fast become her favourite uncle – he was clever, charming, and (though he’d never admit it), he really was good with kids. Sansa had always loved seeing him play with her younger siblings when Lysa first started bringing him to family gatherings.

While on break, Sansa spent a lot of time lazing around the house - catching up on sleep, reading the romance novel her friend Margaery had lent her, just enjoying the feeling of freedom. Lysa for the most part ignored her, except to tell her to entertain Robin or do chores around the house.

Petyr, though…

Sansa didn’t know what to think about Petyr.

He always smiled at her when they ran into each other. He made lasagna from scratch and gave Sansa all the credit, after he’d come home to find her floundering in the kitchen the first day Lysa had told her to have dinner ready for when she and Robin got home. He made her pancakes and played 6 hours of Xbox with her on one glorious Saturday with the house to themselves, before they ordered a pizza and chatted while a marathon of B-rated Christmas movies played on TV.

So, actually, she did know what to think, she just knew she shouldn’t be thinking it.

But with Christmas fast approaching, all Sansa knew was that she wanted to spend as much time with Petyr as she could before her family arrived and made the house so busy that they’d barely see each other… and that was when an opportunity presented itself.

“I’ll go with you Uncle Petyr.” The words came out of her mouth on impulse, but as soon as she said it she was excited – the Baratheon Company Christmas Party would be at the Red Keep, a monolith of a building that she had yet to visit. Petyr worked for the company, as did her father, Ned, who ran the Northern branch. Maybe, Petyr would give her a tour once the party was done…

At her words, Lysa looked disapproving, Petyr concerned. “Are you sure, Sansa?” he asked. “I doubt it will be very fun… screaming children, you have to wear a costume and stay in character…”

“Yes I’m sure!” Sansa replied. “I’m going crazy staying indoors, and it does sound fun anyways. And I’ve always wanted to see the Red Keep.”

“Alright then, its all settled my dear!” Petyr said to Lysa, and gave her a peck on the cheek while she continued to scowl at Sansa. Perhaps it was her imagination, but Sansa thought that Petyr looked considerably happier and Lysa considerably less so about the outcome than at the beginning of their conversation. He turned to finally head to his study, and with a final wink at Sansa (a wink!) he said, “see you in the morning, Sansa, we should leave at 9.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick chapter to give us some insight on Sansa's thoughts :) thanks for reading!


	3. Only had a minute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing fluff. Sorry not sorry XD

_… dreaming of a white Christmas…_

Sansa reached for her phone by instinct as the alarm went off, but she paused at the last second and let the song play while she snuck in a few extra minutes of sleep. She smiled as she thought wistfully of all the snow that would be at Winterfell by now. It definitely didn’t snow in King’s Landing. This was the first Christmas she was spending away from home, and it was strange to think of all the traditions the Starks were giving up this year. 

Ned and Cat had been hesitant, to say the least, of Lysa’s invitation to host the entire family at Christmas – Lysa rarely went up North to spend Christmas (or any holiday, really) with her sister, and Sansa knew that her parents did not entirely approve of Lysa’s recent marriage to Petyr. Sansa wasn’t quite sure what had made her parents finally agree to the plan, but those decisions had been made long ago, and now here she was, waking up early on winter break to spend the day with her Uncle Petyr. 

Sansa opened her eyes and sat up. The song had ended and her phone was now playing “All I want for Christmas is you”… she sighed and turned it off before she thought too long about who that song made her think about. 

All that day dreaming and now she was running late – Sansa hurried around her room, pulling jeans and a plain white t-shirt out of her suitcase, and finished her outfit with the green knit cardigan she had slung over the foot of the bed. She didn’t bother with her hair since it’d probably be under some sort of hat later anyways, and that gave her a bit of extra time to spend perfecting her makeup… because… well. 

As she headed down the staircase, the smell of breakfast rose up to meet her, and she knew it must be Petyr. Lysa never cooked in the morning, as she and Robin were always running out the door. Sansa didn’t mind, and it seemed to her like Petyr didn’t either. 

Sansa paused in the doorway for a moment, watching the final stages of breakfast being made. A plate of buttered toast already sat on the island in the middle of the kitchen. Petyr was at the stove making bacon and eggs. She noticed how his black pullover, worn with the sleeves rolled up, contrasted with the grey at his temples, his hair softly tousled rather than the meticulous style he wore during the work week. And maybe she was imagining it, but his neatly trimmed beard looked a bit scruffier than usual as well… he looked relaxed, and, well, she couldn’t stop herself from admitting it… _hot_. 

Petyr suddenly turned around and noticed her, and Sansa tried to look like she hadn’t been watching her Uncle make breakfast, but found herself trying to hide a blush as she sat down at the island. He proceeded to scoop some bacon and eggs onto the plate in front of her, and Sansa thought she was in the clear until he huskily said “Good morning, Sansa,” and placed a kiss on top of her head, giving her a smile inching towards a smirk. 

Sansa felt her heart skip a beat, and luckily Petyr had turned away to prepare his own plate, or he would definitely have seen her blushing this time. She barely stammered out a “Good morning, Uncle Petyr” in return. 

As she tried to concentrate on breathing, Sansa tried to remember a time, _any_ time, when Petyr had done something like that before… but no, he generally wasn’t one to display a lot of familial affection. She wasn’t even sure if he had hugged her the day she’d arrived from university (though she certainly remembered Lysa’s smothering chokehold). So what did this kiss mean? The gesture was almost paternal, but that smile afterwards definitely wasn’t… 

“Is it burnt?” Petyr’s voice interrupted her thoughts, and Sansa realized he was sitting beside her eating his breakfast. 

“…Sorry?” Sansa replied in confusion, which only made Petyr begin to smirk once again. 

“Your food. You’re not eating.” It was only then that Sansa realized her plate was untouched, and he was halfway through his. 

“Oh… Oh! Sorry!” Sansa was horrified (what the hell was wrong with her?!), and began eating with fervour. “Its delicious,” she managed to say between bites, “thanks for making breakfast Uncle Petyr”. 

“You’re very welcome, sweetling,” Petyr replied, and Sansa gave him a questioning look at the new term of endearment but couldn’t interrogate him while she was eating. “I just wanted to make sure you had a chance to eat before we have to leave in…” he glanced at his watch… “five minutes.” 

Sansa could only nod and she tried to eat as fast as she could. She felt terribly guilty he’d made a fabulous breakfast that she had essentially ignored. He had begun to clear the plates from the table, and was loading the dishwasher, when he lightly added, “Oh, and Sansa…. Please, call me Petyr.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a snow day today (!) and spent it mostly writing! So there's another chapter and it's the one you've all been waiting for, I'm posting it right now ;)


	4. I knew it from the moment that I sat on your lap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm definitely going on the naughty list for this one

The Red Keep was an impressive building – all glistening, red stone, reaching for the sky. Sansa leaned over to her window as she and Petyr drove up, to try and see the top, but the skyscraper continued out of sight, and soon they were heading underground to the employee parking. This was the headquarters for the largest corporation in the country, and anyone who was anyone worked here or knew someone who did… and all their families would be here at the company family Christmas party.

Petyr and Sansa rode a gleaming gold elevator up to the main floor, where the party was being held. As soon as the elevators opened they were bombarded with the sounds of what sounded like all the children in King’s Landing, yattering and laughing and screaming. The party was about to start, and all the children were anxious for the arrival of Santa Claus.

Sansa looked at Petyr and noticed he looked a bit pained at the sheer number of kids in the room, all of which would want a picture with Santa. She nudged him and mouthed “costumes” over the cacophony of children, and he collected himself and nodded, leading her around the side of the room and through a small door at the back.

The hallway on the other side was blissfully quiet, and they both sighed in relief. “Still sure you want to do this?” Petyr asked. Sansa giggled, and Petyr smiled, before moving down the hallway.

“Ros said she left the costumes in a change room down here somewhere… ahh… here we go,” he said, and Sansa followed him through the doorway.

“Well, there’s the infamous fat suit,” Petyr walked up to the large cushion that was meant to go underneath the Santa costume. “Promise me you won’t tell Lysa I didn’t wear it?”

“You know, it probably will look stupid without it, you are pretty skinny…” Sansa teased, and laughed at his look of disdain. “But yes, I promise I won’t tell.”

“Good girl,” he said with that smile that made Sansa’ insides turn to jelly. “And here’s your costume.”

He passed her a red outfit on a hanger, with a Santa hat on the hook, and Sansa looked at it in disbelief. “ _This_ is supposed to be a Mrs. Claus costume?!” The top half was red jacket trimmed with fur, small enough that it was obviously going to be a slim fit, and the bottom was a red skirt short enough that Sansa figured she would never had gotten away with it at school.

She looked up at Petyr and he was eyeing her costume thoughtfully. “Hmmm,” he said, “it is a bit showy but… it’s what I’d want my Mrs. Claus to wear,” he grinned at her and Sansa felt like she was blushing all over.

“Wait,” he said, turning around, “it comes with shoes too,” and he passed her pair of black lace-up high-heeled boots that would reach past her knees. “Seriously?” Sansa replied, but Petyr only laughed. “Go get changed!” he pointed her to a washroom in the corner of the room. “The children are waiting!”

~~~~~

Once Santa and his Mrs. Claus had made their grand entrance, the noise level in the room drastically increased for a few minutes. Sansa figured after that a few cells in her ears died she kind of got used to it, and began to enjoy herself.

They had been set up at a little Christmas photo station, complete with a glamorous tree, presents, and a beautiful carved wooden chair for Santa to sit on while children shared with him their Christmas wishes. Petyr, despite his chagrin at being coerced into being Santa, put on a good show, and the children loved him (as she knew they would) – but Sansa heard a few parents whispering to each other in shock that it was Petyr Baelish, Head of Finances, beneath that snowy white beard, which they hadn’t been able to tell until they were up close and their children were on his lap.

Of course, she also heard whispers about herself – not being from the company, no one knew who she was, and given her attire it seemed many wanted to know. But Petyr was ruthless and didn’t break character for a minute, and would only tell people that she was “Mrs. Claus, of course! Santa needs someone to look after him!” and Sansa followed his lead, not giving her name to anyone.

They made quite the team – Petyr making the kids laugh just in time for the photo, Sansa coaxing the more timid ones with candy canes to get their photos taken. Soon, the crowd began to dwindle, and then before they knew it the last family left the party and it was just the two of them left.

The room seemed jarringly silent, until Petyr got up and stretched, giving out a long groan as he did so. He then proceeded to take off his Santa hat and beard.

“Wait!” Sansa cried, “Aren’t you worried a kid will come back and see you?!”

Petyr just laughed. “No, sweetling. This building has the toughest security around… once those families leave, they’re not getting back in. Besides, this outfit is so hot I thought I was going to pass out.”

He then took off his red jacket, and slung it over the back of the chair. Sansa felt her breathe hitch in her chest – he was only wearing a white muscle shirt underneath, and his chest were glistening with sweat. She felt like she should look away or something, but then that might be weirder, as if she _wasn’t_ supposed to see her uncle in a tank top? Sansa couldn’t quite decide, and by the next time Petyr was talking to her she wasn’t sure if he could tell what she was thinking, but he definitely had that hint of a smirk again.

“So, Sansa, was it as fun as you thought it would be?” he asked.

“Ummm, the party? Yes, I… it was fun, the kids were adorable, I think we saw every kid in King’s Landing…” Sansa tried to joke, but Petyr was staring at her and she lost her train of thought.

“Hmmmm…” Petyr was standing right in front of her now, and Sansa found herself noticing just how green his eyes were. “Y’know, I think we may have missed one,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Sansa asked. She felt like her brain was turning off.

“You, sweetling.” And he grinned, a smile that didn’t match the dark intensity of his gaze. “Don’t you want to tell Santa what you want for Christmas?”

“M-me?” Sansa stammered. “But I’m not a child…”

“Maybe not… but why should you let that stop you?” Petyr replied, and he sat back down in Santa’s chair. He leaned back, smirked up at her and patted his knee.

Sansa hesitated, for maybe a second, but Petyr’s teasing had stirred up all kinds of excitement inside of her. She smiled back at him and sat on his lap.

Sansa soon realized that this chair wasn’t meant for someone as tall as her to be sitting sideways – she had to swing her legs over the armrest, and place her hands on Petyr’s shoulders for balance. Petyr supported her with one hand on her back, while the other rested on her knee. Sansa found that Petyr’s face was extremely close to hers, and she swallowed nervously.

“So, sweetling,” Petyr said soothingly, “what do you want for Christmas?”

Sansa found her mind at a blank. “I, umm… I hadn’t really thought…”

“Don’t think, then,” Petyr interjected. “What’s the first thing that comes to your mind _right now?_ ”

How was he doing this to her? Sansa stared at his green eyes; messed up hair, greying at the edges; and that smirk, somehow sweet and devious at the same time. She knew she shouldn’t but there was really only one thing she wanted at that very moment.

“Well…” she started, a bit uncertainly, a bit breathlessly, but he smiled and she found it gave her little bit of courage. “I would really like to have a Christmas kiss.”

At that Petyr’s smile widened and his eyes seemed to grow even darker than before. “Well, that’s quite a special thing to ask for,” he teased. “Have you been very good this year?”

Sansa stared at him in shock – she hadn’t really expected him to keep going. “I… yes, of course,” she said, a bit indignantly. “I’ve been very good.”

“That’s interesting,” Petyr replied, and he finally broke eye contact. Sansa followed his gaze to his hand resting on her knee. He softly started trailing his hand up her bare leg, and she gasped as fingers traced her inner thigh. “You see, I heard you were on the naughty list.” Sansa looked up and found his gaze again, and suddenly became very conscious of her breathing.

“I… I don’t… what happens if I’m on the naughty list?”

Petyr gave her a wolfish grin and continued to gently graze his fingers higher up her leg, while Sansa squirmed on his lap. “Well, naughty girls get something a little bit different than what they asked for.”

Sansa felt his hand slide all the way up what little fabric made up her skirt, and his fingers gently rubbed against her sex through her underwear, making her gasp for breath. She could feel by how his fingers slid that she was already wet.

“Seems to me that you’re a very naughty girl,” Petyr said in her ear, almost a whisper, and after rubbing her there a few more times he hooked his fingers around her panties and pulled them to the side. He started circling his thumb around her clit and Sansa moaned, throwing back her head and making her Santa hat fall off. Her arms felt weak, and she had slid down so that Petyr was holding most her weight with his arm across her back.

“Petyr…” she panted, but couldn’t remember if she had meant to say anything after that. He had slid two fingers inside her and was slowly pumping them in and out.

“There is one thing you could do to get off the naughty list, sweetling,” Petyr rasped, his voice low in her ear. Sansa met Petyr’s gaze, his eyes dark with lust. “Come for me.” He quickened his fingers inside her. “Can you do that for me Sansa?”

Sansa moaned as she felt him bringing her to her climax. She felt herself writhing on his lap and his growing bulge pressing into her thigh. Before she could answer she was there, and she cried out as she clenched on to him and a wave of pleasure rocked through her body.

Once she was finished, Sansa watched, panting, as Petyr brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked on them, meeting her gaze with his own. “Mmm,” he hummed, licking his lips. “What a good girl.”

Then he leaned over and kissed her, filling her mouth with his tongue and her taste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was meant to be the entire fic... but I kind of want to see what Petyr and Sansa do once the rest of the Starks arrive for Christmas. So I'll probably write at least a couple more chapters :)


	5. Will you really show me the north pole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The extended cut.

Sansa found herself lost in Petyr’s kiss – somehow, his lips were rough but gentle, soft but demanding. He was a man of contradictions, she thought, as her thumb grazed the stubble on his check and her fingers lanced through his hair.

Suddenly Petyr broke off the kiss and pulled her back upright. She leaned down to bring her lips to his once more but he held just an inch out of reach. Instead they both gasped for breath, sharing what little air lay between them.

Her hand was drawn to Petyr’s chest where it was rising and falling, still shining with sweat. And as she looked up through her lashes to see his green eyes glinting mischievously, she felt her insides give a flip in anticipation. Petyr was always one step ahead.

“Sweetling, you’ve been a very good girl,” he began, and he placed the lightest of kisses on her neck. “But don’t you think you’re forgetting something?”

“Sansa couldn’t meet his teasing stare, and instead concentrated on her hand resting on his chest. “I’m not quite sure what I’d be forgetting?” she replied, all innocence.

“You generally say thank you when you receive a Christmas gift.”

“Oh,” Sansa said, looking up in confusion. For some reason thanking him didn’t seem quite the response to their earlier… actions. But he still had that devilish gleam in his eye – so Sansa played along.

“Um, thank you Unc… Petyr.”

To her continued surprise, Petyr only chuckled darkly.

“I had something else in mind,” he said, and he gently placed his hand on top of hers resting on his chest, and slowly started moving it down, down to his stomach, and down further until their hands were resting at the edge of his pants, holding her stare all the while.

He was still wearing the soft red pants that came with the Santa costume – Sansa had a fleeting thought that the costume shop might not want these back – and she could feel his hardness straining beneath her palm. She felt hot all over.

Sansa had to break his stare to look down and undo the button and zipper on his pants. But before she could get any further, Petyr lifted his hand to trace a finger under her chin, tilting her face upwards so her eyes met his again. He gave her a smirk and Sansa got the hint – she focused on his face as his hand reached down to join hers once more.

She squirmed as Petyr freed himself and wrapped her fingers around his shaft, his hand around her own. She felt and overwhelming desire to look down, but she also wanted to follow Petyr’s lead.

He started to move her hand up and down his length, and Sansa reveled in how he felt silky and hard. But she was watching Petyr’s face – and she felt her mouth fall open in astonishment as he moaned deeply and leaned his head against the back of the chair, eyes closed gently. She stared in fascination as his brow furrowed and he ran his tongue across his lips. A surge of confidence filled her, seeing him react this way, and though his hand was still guiding hers she began to push the tempo, and tightened her fingers, ever so slightly.

Petyr moaned again, higher this time, and pushed back against the chair. To her surprise he laughed under his breath, before he opened his eyes with a smirk. “Sansa, sweetling, you are perfectly wicked.”

She grinned back at him, and placed an innocent kiss on his cheek, before she continued her ministrations. Soon he had reached his own climax, and Sansa watched his eyes squeeze shut exquisitely as his seed spilled out over his hand, trickling though his fingers to reach her own wrapped inside.

As he recovered himself, panting, she felt his fingers release from hers, and he brought his hand up to her mouth. It was slick with his cum. “A treat for you, my Mistress Claus,” he said, his eyes staring into her own, dark and unwavering.

Sansa didn’t hesitate - she ran her tongue along his fingers and swallowed, his salty taste filling her mouth. And it was a treat indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to Petyr for making him wait so long for an update. Poor guy.
> 
> And apologies for this chapter title - it's almost groan-worthy XD If you hadn't realized by now, all the chapter titles are lyrics from the song 'Mistress Claus' I included in the first chapter.
> 
> I had meant to get on with the story but it was brought to my attention I couldn't just leave Petyr hanging. He's a bit of a selfish bastard ;) it's also my first time writing a fic with smut and, well, I got carried away... so the NEXT chapter is moving on with the story.
> 
> Thanks for reading! 2 days until Christmas!


	6. I've been misbehaving

They sat in Petyr’s black sedan in the driveway of the Baelish household, extending those last few moments together as long as they could. His hand was resting on Sansa’s knee, as it had the whole way home, and she felt a growing dread that if it ever left it would mark the end of whatever wonderful thing that this day had been. She placed her hand on top his and sighed, turning to look at Petyr. He must have sensed her apprehension because he leant over to give her light kiss on her cheek, before searching her face, his eyes full of concern.

“Petyr… how are we going to… today was…” Sansa huffed in frustration – she had so many things she wanted to say, but just wasn’t quite sure how to say them. Perhaps the most important question first. “Petyr, what are we doing… you are _married_. To my _aunt_.”

He looked down at their hands on Sansa’s knee, mulling over his response, before looking back and replying, “Does that bother you, sweetling?”

“Well, no…” She swallowed, feeling her heartbeat go up a notch. “I mean, yes. In a sense. Today was… for me, it was… amazing,” and she said that last word slowly, uncertainly, trying to gauge his reaction, but he was unreadable. “And I just want to know, if it meant the same to you, as it did for me.”

To her surprise, a smirk crept across Petyr’s face, a look that strangely enough she found comforting – it was so purely _him_. “Ah, sweet Sansa… you’re worried that after taking my pleasure with my niece, I will cast her aside and return happily to my doting wife… Is that it?”

She dropped her gaze and nodded, a blush creeping across her face. 

Petyr leaned in to gently press his lips against hers in a soft, but chaste, kiss. “Sansa…” she looked up to see that his smirk had melted into a smile, one that was lightly teasing but also tender. “I knew as soon as you arrived this break that I _wanted_ you. It wasn’t until I noticed you starting to notice _me_ that I started to think I had a chance… you and I, we’re made of the same mold – we have something special. My marriage with Lysa…” and here a look of irritation crossed his face, “it is a marriage of mutual benefit. Nothing more.”

Sansa stared into his eyes, for once unshielded and earnest, and found only truth there. All that remained, then, was to decide what it was that she wanted.

She sighed again, before finally letting a smile spread across her face, and she could feel his relief in how his whole body relaxed. She reached over to lay a hand on his cheek before returning his earlier kiss, and said, “So how are we going to do this?”

Petyr’s devilish smirk had returned. “Well, sweetling, you are going to have to be very _good_ while we’re around the family… and be prepared to be very _naughty_ whenever we have the chance,” he said with eyes dancing playfully. “Can you do that for me?”

“I’ll promise to be good if you promise to do the same,” she laughed. He chuckled along and leaned in to kiss her once more. “Fat chance of that happening,” he breathed in her ear wickedly between kisses.

Sansa only laughed.

 

The next couple days were spent preparing the house before the rest of the Starks’ arrival on Christmas Eve day. Sansa found herself spending far too much time helping Aunt Lysa with wrapping presents, or entertaining Robin while she ran errands, and not nearly enough time alone with Petyr. In fact, she saw him rarely, as he always made himself scarce when Lysa was caught up in some drama that had to be taken care of.

But they made the most of the moments they had. Lysa corralled Sansa into helping decorate the Christmas tree with her and Robin. While she tried to convince Petyr as well, the most she could do was convince him to read his newspaper in the family room instead of his study – but they weren’t five minutes in before Sansa had the feeling he wasn’t reading his paper at all. She felt his gaze burning into her at every moment, but every time she tried to sneak a look at him inconspicuously he was never paying any attention, just smirking at his paper. She found herself distracted to no end, trying to catch him watching, and Lysa eventually berated her for leaving a good portion of the tree completely empty of tinsel.

Sansa got him back, though, that evening while she was helping Lysa write cards for all the relatives. Petyr was sitting across from her at the dining room table, and the first time he snuck a glance at her, she ran her tongue along the envelope just a touch too obscenely, staring him down the entire time. He couldn’t look away – and eventually had to excuse himself as Sansa got bolder with each card she sealed while Lysa wasn’t paying attention.

Soon it was the morning of Christmas eve, and a stillness fell over the house as miraculously Lysa’s list of tasks to be done before the arrival of the Starks came to an end. Lysa was getting ready (probably putting on far too much makeup and a cringe-worthy Christmas outfit) and Robin was having an afternoon nap. Sansa felt a surge of excitement, as she gently pushed the door open of Petyr’s study.

He was sitting at his desk, reading a book. “Aren’t you supposed to be extremely busy, with work?” she teased, and he grinned at her, placing the book aside.

“And aren’t you supposed to be extremely busy with decorating, or some other task poor Lysa has planned for you?” he retorted. As she approached, he pushed his chair back from the desk, and Sansa boldly sat herself on his lap, so similar to their first encounter.

“We’re finished,” she replied with a grin of her own. “And since I had some free time, and since I’ve been _such_ a good girl…”

Petyr chuckled, cutting her off. “Yes, sweetling, you’ve been very good.” He ran his hand up the side of her body, from her thigh to her breast, and back down again. Sansa felt her skin tingle everywhere he had touched. “But,” he looked at her playfully, “tonight is Christmas Eve, and I had something so very special planned for you later… I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“Well, you don’t have to ruin it… couldn’t we just do something else?” Sansa complained, and Petyr just laughed louder.

“Now, you’re just being greedy my dear.” But then he stood up from his chair, lifting her up, and she squealed in surprise as he carried her over to the window and put her down against the wall, leaning into her sinfully. “Besides,” he continued, whispering into her ear. “I believe your family is here.”

And Sansa turned her head to look out the window, still pressed against the wall by Petyr’s body, and sure enough, saw her family piling out of the silver family minivan into the driveway below.

The Starks had arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if anyone is going to be reading Petyr/Sansa fics on Christmas, but here I am posting anyways... Merry Christmas everybody!


	7. I can't wait to see you Christmas Eve

Sansa stood on the stairs, trying to compose herself, as Petyr went to open the front door for the Stark family. While she was excited to see them (she’d last seen her parents as they dropped her off at university in the fall), she guiltily realized that a part of her wanted to spend time with Petyr _more_.

She watched as he seemed to transform from _her_ Petyr, the one with the wicked grin and dark green eyes, to warm and genial Uncle Petyr, whose blue cashmere sweater softened the sarcastic smile that rested on his face. She adored both sides of him. 

As he placed his hand on the door handle, he turned to give her one final look, and imperceptible raise of his eyebrows, as if to ask _Ready?_

Then, he opened the door, and Sansa heard him call out, “Who let all these kids onto my driveway?” which was met by a chorus of “Uncle Petyr!” Arya and Rickon were the first to reach him, pummeling into Petyr like two small cannons. Though a recent addition to the family, Petyr was already a great favourite.

"Uncle Petyr, can we _please_ play your Xbox?” Arya asked breathlessly, and Sansa could tell this must have been burned into her younger sibling’s mind the entire drive down from Winterfell. Just a few years younger than Sansa, Arya was a complete opposite – short, and with chestnut hair falling out of her ponytail, she was always full of a energy and candidly outspoken. 

Petyr only laughed and replied, “Yes, of course, its just in the living room,” and Arya barely waited for him to point her in the right direction before she ran off, with little Rickon, the youngest sibling, toddling after her. 

"What about me?!” Sansa called after her, but it was in vain – all she got was a “Hi Sansa” from the other room, to which she simply rolled her eyes. 

Next came Bran, who rolled through the door in his wheelchair, and Sansa jumped off the stairs to give him a hug. “Merry Christmas, Sansa”, he said with a smile once they had let go. “I can’t wait to hear all about your university adventures!" 

“Oh – of course!” she replied. Truth be told, she hadn’t thought much about university since she arrived at her aunt and uncle’s – her thoughts had been decidedly… elsewhere. 

Sansa looked up to see her mother breaking away from a cautious hug with Petyr, which was followed by a stern handshake from her father. While Ned and Cat were always distant at best towards Petyr, Sansa found it bothered her more than usual this time around. 

She held her tongue, though, and raced to embrace her parents to ease the awkward tension. She was glad to see a smile return to her Ned’s face when he saw her, and Cat said through a hug that lasted far too long, “I hope your aunt and uncle have been treating you well?” 

Sansa felt her gaze slide over to Petyr, who had somehow wrangled Robb and Jon into a hug instead of two repeat performances of the awkward Ned handshake, before she let her most innocent smile slip into place. “Oh yes, they’ve treated me very well, Mom.” 

And as Petyr ushered everyone inside, taking bags and coats, he gave her a wink while Cat’s back was turned. 

_Perhaps a little too well_ , she thought wryly. 

\-----

The day passed remarkably fast. Once the novelty of the Xbox wore off, the younger Stark kids were able to drag even Arya outside to enjoy a Christmas Eve day without snow on the ground, a novelty for kids who spent every winter up North. She watched with amusement as a game of tag football turned into a game of tackling Uncle Petyr, and she swapped university stories with Jon and Robb until they were pressed to join in the dog pile as well. Robin had taken up a fascination with Bran and his wheelchair, and they were rolling around the yard. A good match, she thought – Bran was by far the most patient member of the Stark family, in her opinion.

While she probably would have been helpful in the kitchen, helping Aunt Lysa and Cat with dinner, Sansa chose to stay outside, soaking up the sun that was uncharacteristically warm for this time of year. She loved watching her family all having a good time, and she _especially_ loved watching Petyr, as his hair gradually became more tousled and he got grass stains on his jeans. While he had Robin as a step-son, she doubted whether he got to let loose like this very often. 

Yes, she was enjoying herself, she truly was – but at the back of her mind was a voice urging time to go just a bit faster – a constant reminder that Petyr had something up his sleeve for them tonight. 

By the time it was dinner, she could feel her excitement charging through her veins, a feeling that was only amplified by the high energy of the younger kids as Christmas inched closer and closer. Lysa’s attempts to have everyone sit at their dedicated places around the dining room table soon became chaos as the children moved all the place cards – and so Sansa found with delight as she sat down that she was somehow next to Petyr, at a table just a bit too small for the number of chairs that were squished around it. Somehow his leg pressed against hers was enough to make the meal go by dizzyingly fast in a whirl of distracted conversations on her part and hidden smirks (at her expense) on his. 

At the end of the evening, the family was in the living room sitting around the fireplace, slowly winding the kids down to go to bed – no easy feat on Christmas Eve. There was the added complication of figuring out where everyone was going to sleep. 

"I’ve set up a bed for Bran in Robin’s room, here on the main floor, annnnd a mattress for Arya in Sansa’s room,” Lysa, red-faced, struggled to get out the right words - she’d had rather a lot to drink. “Rickon will have to stay in the spare room with you and Ned, Cat… And the boys I’ve set up in the… in the upstairs entertainment room." 

:WHAT?!” Arya yelled. “I have to stay with Sansa while they get to sleep in the room with the 60” TV?!" 

Sansa had also felt herself freeze at Lysa’s words – she didn’t want to have to worry about getting around Arya in the middle of the night when she and Petyr did… well, did whatever they would be doing. 

"Yes, my dear, you see there’s not enough room…” 

"I don’t care, I’ll sleep on the floor if I have to, I’m not missing out on the party room,” Arya huffed. “Robb and Jon don’t mind. Do they?” and she glared at them, only making Robb laugh and Jon show one of his rare smiles. 

"No, we don’t mind,” Jon conceded. 

“Yes!” Arya leapt up and was about to run up the stairs, but Cat yelled, “Wait! You’re forgetting something!” 

And that’s when Sansa suddenly remembered the Starks’ Christmas Eve tradition – new Christmas pajamas to sleep and wake up in on Christmas Day. She was mortified… no way could she wear childish pajamas while she and Petyr were… No. No way. 

But Cat had brought boxes for the entire family, including Robin and Lysa and Petyr, containing Christmas pajamas of varying patterns and colours. She could sense, rather than see, Petyr’s smirk, because she was steadfastly looking anywhere but across the room at him. She opened her box to find a pink pajama set with cartoon reindeer and she barely stifled a groan. 

But Sansa’s anguish went unnoticed by the rest of the family, who happily went off to get ready for bed. Petyr disappeared to move Arya’s mattress from Sansa’s room and find a space for it with Robb and Jon, and Sansa lay face down on the couch in humiliation. “Are you ok, Sansa?” Bran asked, heading to Robin's room down the hall. 

"Yes. Fine. Just tired. Probably the wine,” Sansa lied, then groaned as she dragged herself off the sofa. “I’ll see you in the morning, Bran.” 

Dragging herself upstairs, Sansa reluctantly put her pajamas on in the washroom, sighing at her reflection, before she gingerly stepped down the hallway to her parents’ bedroom. “Thanks for the pajamas, Mom,” she called, sticking her head in the doorway, hoping to make a quick escape - but Cat prevented her by making her stay and do a twirl to show them off. 

After a quick hug, she was finally released, and Sansa bolted out the doorway as fast as she could – only to collide full on with Petyr, coming down from the entertainment room. 

“Oh… umm… sorry Pe – Uncle Petyr,” she stammered, feeling every ounce of blood she had rushing to her face. 

But Petyr’s face, of course, was taken up by his trademark smirk as he looked her up and down. “Quite alright, me dear,” he said. “Nice pajamas,” and he walked away with a wink. 

Sansa ran to her room and shut the door, groaning as she slid down to the floor. She tried to think rationally, and remind herself that Petyr probably wouldn’t even care what she was wearing… but she sure as hell did. 

With her excitement for the night slightly muted, Sansa stood up to get ready for bed – and it was only then that she noticed a gleaming red box with a silver bow sitting on her pillow. Her irritation was gone in an instant, and she felt breathless as she sat on her bed to open it. 

Once she lifted the lid, she found a folded notecard resting on top of red tissue paper, with the words _Mistress Claus_ written across in red cursive. She felt a grin begin to spread across her face and she opened it to read, 

_It would make Santa very happy if you were to wear this tonight instead when he comes to visit._ _Nothing else._

She placed the note on her pillow before pulling away the tissue paper to reveal a red silk nightgown, trimmed with black lace around the bust and along the bottom, where it would brush her thighs. It was stunning, and Sansa felt a warmth spread through her at the thought of Petyr picking it out just for her. 

Perhaps it would turn out to be a magical Christmas Eve after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My chapters seem to be getting longer - I hope the extra length is worth the wait? That being said I'm hoping to get the next chapter up faster than I did for this one, because I don't know how much longer Sansa can wait ;)


	8. Won't you set me free

Sansa admired her reflection, watching how the red silk gently swayed as she turned, shining in the dim lighting of the lamp on her nightstand. The nightgown was luxuriously soft, and she was already imagining how it would feel having Petyr run his hands up and down the silky fabric…

She sighed. How long would she have to wait? It had been barely half an hour since the entire family had gone to their respective beds, though she doubted that any of the kids would be sleeping soon. And how was Petyr going to get away from Lysa? Sansa paced from the mirror, to her bed, and back again, wishing she had thought to ask Petyr for more of the details. Should she stay up? Go to bed? She doubted whether she’d be able to sleep anyways. But her bed looked warm and she was starting to shiver wearing just a slinky nightgown.

The minutes ticked away, and Sansa tried to make them go faster – she cleaned up the clothes strewn about the room, stuffing them in her suitcase in the corner; played with her hair until deciding to just leave it down. Finally, she decided to climb into bed just to warm up, but it didn’t take long before she felt her eyes getting heavy.

_Maybe just a quick nap,_ she thought, reaching over to turn out the lamp. She tried to keep one ear on the door, listening for any reason to jump back awake, but nothing came – and so, wrapping the blankets closer around her, she drifted off to sleep.

~~~~~

She felt a rush of cold air, followed quickly by warmth. Her eyes shot open to the blackness of her room, and she could just make out the form beside her who had just slid into her bed.

“Petyr…” Sansa breathed, and reached out to touch him, any part of him, in the darkness. She found his chest, beneath what felt like a soft t-shirt, and began to run her hands up towards his face until she felt him grasp her wrists. A soft chuckle reached her ears.

Without warning Petyr firmly pushed her back, rolling on top of her, pinning her arms above her head. She found herself breathing heavily, staring into the moonlight reflecting in his eyes through the small window above her bed. The skin on her arms pricked at the sudden cold.

“I suppose you decided not to wait up for Santa?” His voice was low, barely a whisper, but she could hear a hint of the smirk that she imagined, more than saw, shaping his lips.

“It was getting late,” she complained. She struggled to keep the annoyance out of her whispered words. “What took you so long?”

Petyr laughed again, and as Sansa felt the vibrations pass through her body she suddenly she felt a lot hotter than before. “Sweetling, we have all night,” he said, placing a light kiss on her cheek. “I had to wait for everyone to fall asleep.”

Sansa knew, of course, that that was the logical thing to do. And that he was here now, so she shouldn’t be annoyed. But she kept pressing. “What if Lysa wakes up and you aren’t there?”

He huffed, lifting himself slightly off her by leaning on his elbows, and Sansa missed his warmth. “Lysa had far too much to drink, and slightly too much sleeping medication, to wake up much before noon,” he said coldly. “Besides, I told you not to worry about Lysa.”

Then he leaned back down, placing his lips wickedly close to her ear. “The only thing I want you to worry about,” he breathed achingly slowly against her neck, “is how you’re going to stay quiet enough that you won’t wake up the entire house.”

Sansa gasped, feeling like she forgot how to breathe, as Petyr started to place warm, soft kisses down her neck. She felt her body struggle to move against his, but his weight and his arms held her down.

When his lips reached her collarbone, he lifted up slightly again to lock eyes with her. Sansa’s vision had finally adapted to the darkness, and she could see his face outlined in the moonlight that softly illuminated her room. He began to slowly move one hand down her arm, still pinning her hands above her head with the other, watching her face as his free hand traced over bare skin, lightly over the side of her breast, and over the silk nightgown he had bought for her down the side of her body. “Do you like the gift I left for you?” he asked, his voice soft but dark.

“Yes,” she managed to gasp, “I – it’s lovely. Thank you.”

“Mmmm,” Petyr hummed, still running his hand up and down her side. It was just as luxurious a feeling as she had imagined, all those hours ago in front of the mirror. “I wonder if you were a good girl and followed the instructions on my note?” This time, as his hand reached her hip, he slid the fabric of her nightgown up, and slid his hand up even higher.

“Yes, I…” was all she succeeded in getting out before she had to gasp for air, as his hand slid up her hip and across her sex, finding nothing but skin as she had dutifully forgone her panties.

Sansa wanted nothing more than for his hand to stay and tease her there, as it had that first time when she sat on his lap. But his hand crept further up, gliding up her stomach, pressing against her ribcage, dragging her nightgown up, up, up with it… until finally his hand reached her breast.

Petyr ran his thumb across her soft nipple, making Sansa gasp once more. But then he tightened his grip, and began massaging her there, and Sansa couldn’t contain a moan as she arched her back in pleasure.

“Mmmm, sweetling, remember to be quiet,” Petyr teased, once again close to her ear.

But he was relentless, switching hands when he’d figured that her other breast was getting left out, and as she squirmed and panted desperately she felt him beginning to harden as he lay on top of her.

“Petyr, please,” she moaned, slightly loader than she intended.

“Please, what, sweetling?” he asked innocently, still running circles around her breast.

She groaned in frustration, struggling to find words. “I need you to fuck me,” she finally gasped out.

“Well, what a naughty girl you are,” he said with a dark laugh. “But don’t worry, the night is still young.”

He finally let her breast go, but his hands went up, not down where Sansa wanted them, lifting the rest of her nightgown above her head.

Face to face once again, Petyr smirked down her, panting for breath. “I don’t think I told you this gift has another purpose.” And with that he twisted the silk fabric around her wrists, before looping it in in a knot around one of the spokes in the headboard. Sansa looked up in astonishment, giving her wrists a tug; they barely budged.

When she looked down again, Petyr’s gaze was devouring her naked body. She felt herself blush, and had her hands been free she might have tried to cover something - but as it was she was powerless.

Petyr looked up to see her watching him, and some of her embarrassment must have come through because he smiled and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her lips. “You are divine, Sansa,” he said softly, and he placed another kiss on her lips before starting to trail downwards. Sansa sighed and tilted her head back as her kissed along her neck, and gasped as she felt both his hands this time exploring every inch of her body, slowly inching downwards.

She moaned again as his lips found her breast, already sensitive from his earlier attention. He chuckled and whispered, “shhhh,” a rush of air against her bare skin. He licked and sucked each breast in turn, while Sansa struggled to contain her outbursts - she was almost relieved when he didn’t spend much time there, as he continued to place warm, open-mouthed kisses down her stomach. All the blankets were gone, and she shivered in the cold as the warmth of his body slowly abandoned her.

When Petyr’s mouth reached her sex, she felt her breath quicken. He placed the lightest of kisses along her hip and down to the inside of her thigh, and he tightened his grip on her hips when she started to writhe against him.

Suddenly she felt him _lick_ along the length of her sex, his tongue flat against her. “OH!” Sansa felt the noise, not quite a word, escape from her lips, how close to a shout she couldn’t tell. But Petyr didn’t stop – he kept licking, sucking, twirling his tongue around her sex, her clit, inside her; holding down her hips that were frantically bucking.

Sansa pulled against the restraint holding back her hands, writhing in pleasure. She struggled to stay quiet, but found she could only keep down the volume of her moans by uttering a constant stream of words under her breath – “Petyr, oh God, Petyr, seven hells, don’t stop, please, Petyr…” interspersed with other sounds that weren’t words at all.

He was building her up, and she could feel herself reaching her climax – but Petyr pulled away before she could get there. She groaned in exasperation.

“My dear, you’re getting ahead of me again,” he teased, crawling back up to meet her gaze. He licked his lips and she saw the scruff around them glistened with her wetness. He leaned in close, holding her gaze. “Now, I wonder if you had gotten me a Christmas present, Sansa?”

“Ummm…” Sansa tried to think, startled at the abruptness of this new topic, but words escaped her.

Petyr only smirked. “Well, that wasn’t very thoughtful, especially after the nice present I gave you… But, luckily enough, I’ve got an idea of what you could give me.”

He lowered his body onto hers, and Sansa felt the whole length of his shaft pressing against her body. With his hand, he guided himself towards her sex, slowly moving back and forth against the slickness along her opening.

Sansa moaned, throwing her head back. “Yes, Petyr. Please,” she groaned.

He smirked, leaning down to kiss her neck. “What a good girl,” he whispered.

Then he entered her, slowly pushing until he filled her. Sansa moaned, and gasped; the movement was smooth and it felt _good_. He waited a moment to let her adjust to the feel of him, then began an achingly slow rhythm of sliding out of her and in again.

“Petyr...” she gasped, “faster…”

“You are always impatient, sweetling,” he chuckled back, and Sansa enjoyed how out of breath he sounded. But he did pick up the pace, and Sansa found herself matching his movements with her own.

Petyr reached down to begin teasing her clit, and Sansa moaned loudly once again. She could feel her climax getting closer. “Petyr… I’m going to…” she gasped, trying to find air.

“I want… you to come… with me…” Petyr rasped, gasping for breath as much as she was.

Suddenly the wave of pleasure crashed over her, and Sansa felt herself tighten around him just as he spilled his seed inside her. She heard Petyr moan, and nothing had ever sounded so sinfully delightful to her ears.

After a few moments of catching their breath, Petyr rolled off of her, and she felt empty in the cold. He reached down to gather the blankets that had been long forgotten beside her bed and pulled them over to cover himself and Sansa laying beside him. He seemed to just realize that she was still tied to the headboard, and chuckled as he reached up to release her wrists.

Once her arms were free, she pulled Petyr close to her and gave him the kiss she had been dying to give him all night. She ran her hands through his hair, down his chest, and across his shoulders. And he was warm, and gentle, wrapping his arms around her until she began to fall asleep against his chest.

Just as she was on the edge of sleep, Sansa felt him lightly kiss her forehead, and whisper softly against her skin, “Merry Christmas, Sansa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to stop promising to write faster, and just assume that you all are okay with me extending the holiday season for a little bit :D I'll be trying to bring this fic to a conclusion pretty soon though - or else I'm sure I'll be writing about Christmas still in April!
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I certainly enjoyed writing it ;)


	9. Don't make a fool out of me

The world was bright, and it was warm. Sansa felt her body wake up but kept her eyes closed a while longer. She tried to concentrate on every detail – the sound of Petyr’s heartbeat, deep inside his chest underneath her cheek; his slow, gentle breath, making her hair shiver across her face on every exhale; the way the warmth of the morning sun shone through her window and embraced them both. She relished the softness of skin on skin, as his arm wrapped around her shoulders and her draped across his stomach. This moment, she was sure, would make today her best Christmas ever.

Then, a sound that didn’t quite fit… a rattling. Her doorknob. Sansa’s eyes flew open and she pushed herself up at the same moment Petyr did – he evidently had not been sleeping either. They stared at each other, silent, in shock.

She heard a voice through the door – “Sansa? Are you awake?” It was Arya. Sansa looked over at the alarm clock sitting on her nightstand, and saw it was past 7. Early for any normal day, but not for Christmas. Her stomach clenched. Soon the whole household would be up, and Petyr was still here, in her bedroom. She wondered if he had thought this far ahead, and looked at the door uncertainly. If she could pretend to still be asleep, perhaps Arya would go away.

“Sansa! It’s Christmas wake up!” Sansa flinched as her little sister yelled through the door, following up with a pounding fist for good measure.

Sansa groaned, burying her face on Petyr’s chest. “I’m up!” she yelled back.

“Then get out of bed!” was Arya’s reply, and Sansa looked up at Petyr helplessly, unsure what to do.

He only chuckled, lifting a hand to brush her hair out of her face, and kissed her on the forehead. “Sounds like your sister needs you,” he whispered, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Go on, I’ll hide.”

It took every ounce of willpower to separate herself from Petyr, but Sansa did, watching Petyr pick up their clothes strewn on an around the bed. She realized she didn’t even remember at what point he had lost that navy blue cotton shirt, or those flannel pajama pants in matching green and navy plaid that he hastily put on, before he threw Sansa her nightgown. As she slipped it on, she thought of her shyness at being naked with him the night before… and wondered at what point had that been lost as well.

“Shit. This room has no closet,” she heard Petyr whisper, and she looked back to see him jumping back on the bed, pulling blankets and pillows on top of him in a messy mountain. He looked like a frantic schoolboy and Sansa couldn’t hold back a giggle. The bed passably looked like she was just a terribly wild sleeper, which wasn’t far from the truth – so Sansa did her best to look drowsy and irritated at the wake-up call, and finally opened the door.

“Sansa! Merry Christmas!” Arya bowled into her with a hug, knocking them both through the doorway. Though annoying, she really could be sweet sometimes. “I thought you’d never wake up!” she looked at Sansa accusingly.

“Well, it’s early,” Sansa complained, rubbing her face. It wasn’t hard to feign tiredness – she wasn’t even sure how late she and Petyr and been up doing… well.

“What the hell are you _wearing?_ ” Arya gaped and Sansa’s skimpy red nightgown.

_Right. The pajamas._ Sansa felt her brain whirring for an excuse. “It’s a nightgown. Margaery gave it to me. My room is so warm I couldn’t sleep in those pajamas from Mom.”

“Huh. Doesn’t seem warm,” Arya said, wandering further into the room.

A series of alarm bells went of in Sansa’s head, seeing Arya get closer to the pile of blankets that was Petyr. She had to get Arya out. Now.

“Are… are Robb and Jon up yet?” she hurriedly asked, fishing for a distraction.

“Naw, they’re lazy, they sent me to come bother you instead,” Arya rolled her eyes.

“Perfect!” Sansa gasped. Arya gave her a look and she quickly continued, “I mean, we can wake them up together – here, let me get changed, grab some pillows, then we’ll go give them hell. What do you say?”

She knew she had won her sister over – a mischievous grin overtook Arya’s face. “Yessss….” She hissed gleefully. “Ok I’ll be in the hallway hurry up!” she practically sprinted out the door, closing it behind her.

Sansa breathed a sigh of relief, but couldn’t stop the surge of accomplishment that washed over her. She could _totally _make this thing with Petyr… whatever it was… work.__

__As she began changing into those horrid pink pajamas, she looked over at the bed to see Petyr’s head sticking out from under all the blankets, watching her. Of course. She walked over, grabbing a couple of the pillows piled on top of him._ _

__“Hope you don’t mind if I take these,” she smiled at him._ _

__“Not at all sweetling. You go give them hell. Just remember to save some for me,” he said with a wink._ _

__She giggled. “You look stupid,” she told his head, seemingly separated from his body under the pile of blankets._ _

__“Hey” he looked at her, affronted. “I’m not the one in pink pajamas.”_ _

__She huffed in mock anger, throwing the blankets over his now smirking face. She headed for the door, arms full of pillows, and almost made it – but she ran back to the bed, found his face, and planted a quick kiss on his lips with a smile._ _

__~~~~~_ _

“I’ll meet you downstairs!” Sansa called down the hallway, as Arya, Jon and Robb headed in search of some breakfast. She opened the door to her room, popping her head in tentatively – it was quiet, and her bed was neatly made. Petyr was gone.

She sighed and went to look in the mirror – her face was flushed, her hair was a mess, and she was out of breath. This time, due to an epic pillow fight that got rather out of hand, mostly due to Arya’s enthusiasm. If the rest of the family hadn’t been awake before, they were now.

She made sure at least her hair looked presentable, before following her siblings on their way to the kitchen. Delicious smells greeted her as she went down the stairs – she smelled bacon and pancakes for sure, maybe eggs as well. The kitchen was strangely quiet, and as she entered she discovered why. Arya and her two older brothers were sitting next to Bran and Robin, apparently already up – and all of them were eagerly chowing down on a massive selection of breakfast food.

“Merry Christmas, Sansa!” Bran was the only one who took time out of eating to acknowledge her entrance. Except for Petyr, leaning next to the stove watching another batch of pancakes, who gave her a wink when no one was looking.

“You look tired Sansa – did you stay up all night trying to catch a glimpse of Santa?” he smirked at her.

_Fuck that man,_ Sansa thought, trying not to grin wickedly back. “No, I slept wonderfully, in fact, thanks Uncle Petyr.” She gladly took the plate piled high with food that Petyr handed her. “I… wouldn’t say no to some coffee though.” 

He laughed. “Coming right up.” 

Sansa brought her plate to the table to sit with the others. “Well, I’m glad someone had a good sleep,” Jon said under his breath, his face cracking into a rare smile as Arya and Robb started sniggering. 

“What do you mean?” Sansa questioned, pouring maple syrup over her plate. 

“You can’t tell me you didn’t hear them?” Arya whispered gleefully. 

“Who? What are you talking about?” 

“Aunt Lysa and Uncle Petyr – they were going at it all night,” Robb replied, and the three of them all started sniggering again. 

_“What?!_ Sansa tried to whisper, but it came out slightly harsher than she intended. 

“God, I don’t know how you slept through it, you were on the same floor!” Arya cackled gleefully. “It went on forever – it was all ‘Petyr, oh God, don’t stop, ohhhHHHhhhh, Petyr…” 

“Shut up! He’s right there!” Sansa whispered, cutting off Arya’s mock moaning. She looked over at Petyr, who was doing a good job of pretending to not be paying attention, but by his widening smirk she knew it was already too late. 

Arya and Robb had to hide their sniggering when Cat and Ned came in, with little Rickon in tow. Just one look at her parents told Sansa all she needed to know – Cat avoided looking in Petyr’s direction at all, while Ned gave Petyr a withering glare. 

Petyr obviously noticed as well. “Morning Cat, morning Ned,” he greeted them with an overly enthusiastic smile. “I hope you both slept well?” 

Another glare from Ned. Cat put a hand on her husband’s arm. “Yes, thank you Petyr,” she replied chivalrously. After a moment’s hesitation she continued, “Is… is Lysa up yet?” 

Sansa felt Arya tense up beside her, another bout of laughter threatening to break free. 

“Oh, she’s still sleeping...” Petyr replied lazily. “She mentioned something about a pounding headache…” Arya snorted into her orange juice, and Robb hid a chuckle under his hand. “… no big deal, she took some Advil, she’ll be fine in a couple hours. It happens all the time,” he finished with a sly smirk and a wink – a wink! – at Robb, who threw back his head and laughed, and Jon, who had even let out an uncharacteristic chuckle. Arya by this point had her head on the table, shoulders shaking in silent laughter. 

Sansa didn’t know whether she felt like laughing or getting up to punch Petyr in the face. He was thoroughly enjoying having the whole Stark family think he had fucked Lysa to oblivion last night, when in reality it had been Sansa making all that noise – and he was milking it for every drop. 

“Petyr, if you can’t control yourself around the kids…” Ned growled. 

“Oh, come on, Dad,” Arya laughed. “Three of these ‘kids’ are in college, two seniors in high school, and the other two haven’t got a clue what’s going on.”  
True enough, Robin and Rickon were fully entertained having a lightsaber duel with two slices of bacon. 

Petyr smirked at Ned before turning back to tend to the pancakes, and Cat rolled her eyes, nudging her husband until he stopped glaring a hole into the back of Petyr’s head. 

“So, how about the kids open one present, then we’ll wait for Lysa to wake up for the rest?” Cat masterfully transitioned away from the tension. 

Sansa breathed a sigh of relief, her second of the morning, as Robin and Rickon’s excitement took over, and they ran into the living room to pick out a present to open. 

_Perhaps… this wouldn’t be so easy after all._

~~~ 

Sansa wandered up to her room, wanting nothing more than a warm shower. They had watched Robin and Rickon open a pair of hockey sticks, then enlist most of the Starks to come outside and either play, ref, or cheer on their game. If Petyr had been right about Lysa’s sleeping medication, she still had a couple of hours before the rest of Christmas morning would commence. 

With an armful of clothes and a spare towel, she walked out of her bedroom and was about to turn left down the hallway to the guest bathroom, when she heard a voice - _that voice_ \- whisper her name. 

She turned around, and there he was, grey hair sticking up all over the place, looking just as soft as the flannel pants he wore with his hands stuffed in the pockets. “Where are you going?” he asked with a grin. 

She nodded her in the other direction. “Shower.” 

“Not there you aren’t,” his grin grew wider as he nodded his head behind him, walking slowly backwards towards his bedroom. 

Sansa looked around uncertainly, but they were indeed alone. “Petyr…” 

He arched his eyebrows, and took his hands from his pockets, raising them to playfully beckon her with a couple fingers. Sansa huffed and rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help but smile – he looked damnably cute. Shaking her head, she followed him down the hallway. 

Tentatively, Sansa crept into Petyr and Lysa’s bedroom. Her aunt was definitely asleep, only one arm visible beneath the mess of blankets. She tiptoed by as hurriedly as she could, crossing the room to the ensuite master bathroom, where Petyr was waiting in the doorway. Once across the threshold, he closed the door behind her, before taking her clothes and towel from her arms to place them on the gleaming grey countertop. 

“It is a really nice bathroom,” Sansa said to fill the silence, looking around. It was all shining silver, glass, and cool grey tile. Her eye was drawn to the massive walk-in shower, tiled on two sides and surrounded in glass everywhere else, with an elegant rainfall shower head floating from the ceiling. 

“Yes – and it’s much nicer when I get to share it,” he smirked, sidling up until he was pressing her against the wall. 

Sansa felt her breath quicken as his searching hands found the hem of her shirt, sliding it up above her head. He ran his hands up and down her bare sides, her back. She whimpered when he leaned in to kiss her neck, trailing down to her collarbone. 

“Mmmm… Sansa,” he breathed, dropping his hands to her pants, lifting them off her hips so that they fell in a puddle on the floor. “No panties – what a good girl.” 

And with that she was gasping, his hands running across the curves of her hips and down her legs. His shirt was soft, but she wanted to feel his skin on hers. She mirrored his earlier motions and pulled his t-shirt above his head, and he stepped out of his pants, throwing them to the side. 

She was dying to kiss him, and leant in to cover his lips with hers, but he suddenly lifted her up, making her gasp and instinctively wrap her legs around his waist. She clutched his shoulders as he carried her into shower, pushing her back against the cold stone. 

Petyr gave her a mischievous grin before he reached over to turn the shower on – she let out a sound that was almost a scream as cold water ran over her head. He laughed at her reaction and adjusted the temperature, and the water heated up within seconds. 

“Petyr, shouldn’t we be more quiet… I mean Lysa is right there… I don’t want any more of that trouble you were causing at breakfast…” 

“Hmmm…” Petyr looked thoughtful as he adjusted his positioning slightly. She felt him growing hard between her legs, and he slowly started to grind against her, making her groan. 

“I think it was you who was causing all the trouble, if I remember correctly,” he finally replied. He lifted a hand to gently cup her face, running his thumb across her bottom lip. “After all, if you had kept your pretty little mouth shut, no on would have heard us fucking in the middle of the night.” 

_Gods, he was right_ – but as he continued to rub against her, and his other hand slid between them to start gently circling her clit, she couldn’t hold back another groan, louder than the first. 

“That’s what I thought, my naughty little girl,” he growled. His mouth found her breast, and began licking and sucking. Sansa felt she couldn’t moan load enough to show him how much pleasure she was in right now. 

“Petyr!” she gasped, arching her back against the shower wall. Now it was hot - the water pouring down on them was just shy of scalding. She struggled for breath as steam rose all around them. 

Suddenly she felt him slide inside her, and she moaned at how perfect he felt. They both paused for a moment, sharing a few panting breaths, before Petyr started to move again. The shower wall was slick and slippery, but he held her against it with a grip that she was certain would bruise. She struggled to find a grip, her hands sliding off his body, so she used one hand to thread her fingers through his soaking wet hair. 

It didn’t take long before he had them both falling over the edge, Sansa throwing her head back in pleasure and Petyr letting out another of those delightful moans. 

He gently set her down and leaned against her as they both caught their breath. When he had recovered, Petyr cupped her face with both of his hands to capture her lips with his own. When he pulled away, Sansa saw his green eyes glinting mischievously once again. 

“Time to get you cleaned up, you dirty little girl,” he smirked, reaching behind him to grab a bar of soap, lathering it between his hands. 

It smelled of mint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha. Oh, the Starks. Quick tempers, slow minds.
> 
> It's a bit of a long chapter but I wanted it to have a bit of everything... fluff, some Stark family comedy of errors, and of course, some smut ;) this was a fun one to write so I hope you all enjoyed it!


	10. Won't you meet me by the mistletoe

Petyr opened the bathroom door a crack, peering through as Sansa stood back in silent anticipation. Not that being silent now would help any if Lysa was awake, but she felt in the moment it was warranted anyways.

He looked back at her and raised his eyebrows in amusement. “She’s still asleep,” he grinned, pulling Sansa in close. “I have to admit, I am a bit surprised, after all the noise you made.”

Sansa chuckled a bit sheepishly, burying her face in his chest, once again covered by a soft t-shirt. She breathed in the smell of mint that enveloped them both, thinking that no scent had ever made her happier. His fingers brushed along her face until they cupped her chin, bringing her face up to meet his, and he planted a swift kiss on her lips. “You better get out of here though, sweetling, before she does wake up,” he said with a smile.

“You’re right,” she sighed, giving him one last smile before she disentangled herself from his arms. He took one last look outside before opening the door wider for her, playfully bowing in mock gallantry as he ushered her across the threshold. 

Sansa rolled her eyes, then tiptoed back into the bedroom, tentatively peeking at the bed. Lysa had, in fact, not moved an inch the whole time they were in the shower. 

She felt a surge of adrenaline, and turned back to smirk wickedly at Petyr, still standing in the doorway to the bathroom. Oh, it was so bad, she knew – but it was such a _rush_ to be constantly one step ahead, taking risks and dealing with the consequences after. And there was no one she would rather have by her side.

Sansa wandered down the hallway back to her room, floating in a combination of confidence and bliss. She closed her eyes, trailing her hand along the wall to guide her, as she imagined Petyr’s hands gliding over every inch of her body, both of them covered in minty bubbles, water dripping into their eyes… she smiled, wanting to live in that memory forever.

The wall ended beneath her fingers, and she made to turn the corner, but found herself colliding into someone standing there. She yelped and stumbled backwards, eyes flying open, to reveal her sister staring back at her in surprise. 

Arya’s eyes moved from the towel and clothes bundled in Sansa’s arms to her hair, still dripping and uncombed. “Were you – did you just have a shower?” she asked slowly.

“Yeah,” Sansa replied, moving to brush past her to her room, but Arya shifted to block her way.

“You mean the shower right there?” she pointed her thumb over her shoulder towards the guest bathroom, in the opposite direction from which Sansa had just come.

“No…” She felt her brain going into overdrive to come up with an excuse. “It was… someone was in there so Pe – Uncle Petyr said I could use his.”

“We were all outside.”

“Well, I don’t know who it was, okay? I guess someone had to use the washroom, it’s not a big deal,” Sansa quickly side-stepped her sister to continue down the hallway and into her room.

She went to her bed, dumping down the clothes in her arms to start folding them, but she could feel Arya’s presence in the doorway. “Sansa…” Arya sighed from behind her. “I may be younger than you, but I’m not stupid.”

Sansa stopped, putting down her clothes to face her, leaning against the bed with arms crossed. “What do you mean, Arya.”

“I heard…” she stopped, leaning back to look down the hallway in both directions, before steeping further into the room to close the door. “I came up here to change… I was getting too hot playing hockey with Rickon and Robin… I thought it was fucking _Aunt Lysa_ again…”

Sansa felt as if her insides had turned to ice, realizing what was about to happen. But she kept her face expressionless, holding on to that small piece of control.

“But…” Arya continued, then sighed, leaning her head back into the door. “What the _hell_ are you doing, Sansa?”

Sansa thought back – her sister had been in all the right (or wrong?) places at the right time. She’d seen Sansa that morning in the skimpy nightgown, had chanced to come upstairs while she and Petyr were in the shower… and of course everyone had heard them the night before. She knew she could try to string a lie together but Arya would tear it apart… and it wouldn’t take much more than that for Arya to let her secret slip. The important thing was to keep it contained, in her control.

Sansa looked at her sister, too clever for her own good, and decided to let her have the truth.

“Does… anyone else know?” Sansa said quietly. When Arya lifted her head back off the door to look at her, eyes wide in astonishment, confusion – Sansa met her gaze with a steely determination.

“No,” Arya breathed, “no one else came inside…” Then, to Sansa’s surprised, Arya let out a loud laugh, and shook her head. “Gods, Sansa, if that was you just now… and last night too…?” Arya laughed again as Sansa nodded, a smile beginning to sneak onto her face, “Gods, Sansa… he must be _good_.”

“Oh, shut up,” Sansa said, grinning now, which only made Arya laugh even louder. Soon both sisters were in hysterics, Arya sliding her back against the door until she was sitting on the floor, and Sansa laying flat on her back on the rug beside her bed, clutching her sides.

Once their laughter had subsided, and they were both trying to catch their breath, Arya crawled over to lay beside Sansa on the ground. “You and Uncle Petyr though… that’s the most fucked up thing I’ve ever heard of,” she teased. “How long?”

“Just a few days before you lot arrived, really,” Sansa frowned. Had it really only been a few days? “Last night was the first time… the first time that we…”

“Had sex?” Arya continued when Sansa faltered, smirking sidelong at her sister. “Yeah, that’s a bit obvious.” Arya paused, and Sansa looked over to see her pursing her lips in thought.

“What is it?” Sansa nudged her with her shoulder.

“Just… I just realized… that stupid nightgown… Sansa, was he _here_?! This morning when I woke you up?”

Sansa felt her mouth gape open, at a loss for words, and her expression said it all. “Arrrrrgh! Fuck!” Arya covered her face with her arms. “Fuck I was here when you two were fucking Sansa why would you do this to me!”

“Oh, grow up!” Sansa laughed, sitting up. “We had actually been _sleeping_ , for your information. How can you be so snide one minute and grossed out the next?”

“Gahhh, it’s still so weird… part of me thinks it’s fucking awesome and part of me thinks you’re insane. When this is all over though and I get over the general creepiness, I want to know _all_ the dirty details.”

Something about Arya’s words made Sansa’s amusement suddenly fade away. “When… it’s all over?”

Arya caught the change in Sansa’s voice, and sat up too. “Yeah…” she looked at her sister in puzzlement. “You… you know it has to end, right? I mean, he’s… married… to our _aunt_. There’s just… no way it could work.”

Sansa felt curiously empty inside, and wondered where those feelings from last night and this morning had gone. “Right… yeah…” she agreed uncertainly.

“Trust me,” Arya continued. “You’ll go back to uni, classes will start, and once you have some space you’ll get your sanity back, and forget all about him.”

Sansa knew her sister meant well, and was sharing the intelligent side of herself that she often hid with her relentless playfulness. She sighed. “You’re right,” she acknowledged, blue eyes meeting brown. “Just… promise me you won’t tell anyone?”

Arya rolled her eyes. “I doubt anyone would believe me anyways.” She grinned before suddenly crashing in for a hug. “But yes, I promise – I won’t tell.”

~~~~~

Sansa put the flat iron down, looking in the mirror as she ran her hands through her sleek hair. She pushed it behind her and reached for her makeup bag, but her hand paused – she liked her bare skin, and how it seemed to be glowing – covering it with makeup felt like a step away from pure happiness she had felt last night and this morning. A step she wasn’t ready to take.

She braced her arms on the vanity and bowed her head in frustration. Was Arya right? Was this just a Christmas fling, dooming her to a future of awkward family gatherings of avoiding her uncle, of being inexplicably aroused at any mention of Santa’s naughty list?

She laughed, a short, dry chuckle that didn’t fill the room. 

_Or did she want more?_

A voice in her head knew it didn’t matter what she wanted, if one option was verifiably insane. And logistically impossible. It was the voice of reason, of logic, of principle – the voice of her parents, her family, the one she had grown up listening to. But for once in her life, she had other thoughts in her head beginning to drown them out.

“Sansa!” her head jumped up as she heard her name called from downstairs. “Hurry up we’re opening presents!”

She sighed and took one last look in the mirror, preparing to put on the mask to hide the tide of emotions threatening to break through. It was Christmas, and for opening presents she would be expected to be happy. She doubted, though, whether there was any present waiting for her that would really be what she wanted.

~~~~~

The younger children – mainly Rickon and Robin – were more than enthusiastic enough for Sansa to hide in her thoughts. They were a whirling chaos of boxes and wrapping paper which Sansa found she was actually grateful for - no one had time to notice if her thank you’s for the chocolate or books she received were less wholehearted than usual. She couldn’t bring herself to focus on the rest of the family except for a few moments… she caught her mom rolling her eyes at Lysa as she threw back more Tylenol and slumped on the couch; and Arya staring at her in concern when she missed one of Robb’s jokes.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur, and Sansa volunteered to help her mom make dinner, as Lysa was proving to be less than competent. She welcomed the chance to sift through her thoughts while cutting vegetables and stirring the sauces.

Petyr came into the kitchen once, but Lysa was too hungover to try and boss him around, and neither Cat nor Sansa continued his conversation past the obligatory small talk. Sansa smiled at him, and he searched her face with an unspoken question on his lips – but, unable to say what he wanted, he just grabbed a beer from the fridge and left.

It was after dinner, when the family was spread out in the living room - some napping, some reading, some playing or observing the intense game of Catan taking place by the fire – that Petyr made his move. He caught Sansa’s eye over the book she was reading, and quietly slipped out of the room, disappearing up the stairs.

Sansa swallowed, looking around the room to see if anyone had noticed. Finally, her eyes met Arya’s, who was watching her over her Nintendo DS. Sansa bit her lip and raised her eyebrows in a silent question, to which Arya only rolled her eyes. But then, to Sansa’s relief, she nodded, and imperceptibly nodded her head after Petyr.

Sansa could have leapt from the sofa and run out of the room – but she forced herself to calmly look around the room one last time before getting up to discreetly leave the room. 

The hallway was colder than the living room, with its fireplace and sleepy Starks, and she shivered as she wondered where Petyr had done, lightly climbing the stairs. Once at the top, though, she saw a dim light creeping into the hallway through Petyr’s study door, slightly ajar. She followed the light, silently slipping through the doorway to find Petyr standing at his desk, his back towards her, before she turned to close the door. 

When she turned back, he was leaning against the desk, arms folded, watching her. He made her breathe catch, just as her always did, just by looking at her. But this time she felt something else – sadness, just a tug… a chill pulling on her heart.

And he noticed. “Something’s been bothering you,” he said, concern in his eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She sighed, rubbing her arms as a shiver ran through her, and slowly closed the distance between them. Instead of coming to meet her, though, Petyr backed up around his desk to sit in his chair, arching his brow as he leaned back, looking up at her.

Sansa giggled, despite herself, and followed him, settling herself on his lap. She smiled at him as she rested one hand on his shoulder, while the other brushed against the stubble on his face before reaching up to run through the silver hair at his temples. He, _this_ , was so, so, familiar… and she felt a wave of calm wash over her as she looked down into his eyes.

He let her brush her fingers through his hair for a minute, before he reached up to cup her chin with his finger. “Tell me, sweetling.”

Sansa swallowed as she felt that tug again, and searched for the right words. “I… feel like… today is like the beginning of an ending. You know?” She paused, but now that she had started she felt all her thoughts beginning to rise to the surface. “Just, its Christmas, and I’m going back to school in a few days… and I’m going to miss it. Being here. With you. I’m going to miss _you_. Because these past few days have been some of the best of my life and I’m… scared. Scared to let that go.” She realized she had been talking to her hand on his chest, and looked up to meet his eyes. But to her surprise, his brow twitched, and he looked down.

“Are you saying that… you think we should let this go?” he said quietly, running his hand lightly up and down her leg. 

“I just… don’t see that we have a choice,” Sansa whispered. She didn’t have breathe for anything more.

“Choice?” Petyr gave her a piercing glare. “Of course we have a choice, Sansa.”

“Just – how? I’ll be at school-“

“Which is only an hour’s drive away, sweetling,” and he finally smiled, just a hint of a smirk returning to his lips. Did you really think I wouldn’t come visit you every chance get?”

“But… Lysa…” Sansa was struggling to remember everything logical that Arya had said to her earlier, but suddenly nothing she could come up with seemed that important.

“You know what I said about Lysa,” he replied coolly. “She is a necessary evil, for now, and too dim-witted to question when I’ll have to start working longer hours at work,” Petyr concluded with a wink. “Now, before you come up with any more excuses, I have something for you.”

He reached to his desk and handed her a thin red box tied with a silver ribbon. Sansa blushed – “But you already got me a present… And I didn’t get you anything…”

He grinned wickedly at her. “Oh, yes, you did. Now open it.”

Sansa freed her arms from around his shoulders to pull on the ribbon until it gracefully unraveled. She slowly lifted the lid to reveal a silver necklace, laid out on white silk. She carefully picked it up. placing the box on Petyr’s desk, to examine the green pendant that hung from the end.

“It’s mistletoe,” Petyr’s voice was low in her ear. “Preserved in a resin.”

“Ohhh…” Sansa breathed, marvelling at how the light reflected off the pendant, making the leaves inside seem endless shades of green. “So… when I wear it, it’s like I’m wearing a Christmas kiss, is that it?” she grinned at him.

Petyr chuckled. “If you like,” he said lightly. “It’s a memory… but also the future. It’s trapped inside that pendant forever, so it’ll be with you always.” He wrapped his arms tighter around her. “Just like I will be.”

Sansa smiled, at a loss for words, and Petyr gently took the necklace from her hands and clasped in around her neck. “Green suits you,” he teased, noticing how the pendant matched her green shirt. Then both his hands found their way to her face, and he pulled her in for a kiss.

Petyr’s lips were soft but unforgiving, and Sansa grabbed his shirt to steady herself. He moved his lips slowly, making her head spin, and she matched his movements. She felt alive again, her whole body buzzing, and she wondered how she ever thought she could give this up.

When they paused, both gasping for breath, Sansa looked down at Petyr’s hair, ruffled by her fingers; his lips, reddened by their kiss; and his eyes, burning with desire. She knew he was looking at her and seeing the same thing. She pulled back from him, chuckling.

“What is it, sweetling?” he grinned, running his hands up her back, trying to pull her closer.

“It’s just that I realized that Santa really did give me what I wanted this year,” she said, giggling. Petyr replied with a smirk, eyes dancing, and she let him pull her close to become lost in another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait for a conclusion - school has started and it has been hard finding time to write as much as I did over Christmas break. I also found it more difficult to write the last chapter than I anticipated! It is hard to let things that you love go <3
> 
> Fluff fluff fluff... I wanted these two to have a proper conclusion and I hope you all enjoyed it. That being said, I did work in some set up for an idea for a sequel that I had... If I can I will probably get started on writing it slowly, but it won't be posted for a while. I need to focus on school for a bit, its my last semester and I need to write a thesis type paper (which ironically will probably be shorter than this fic!) But, I'm hoping to give you something to look forward to potentially in the spring ;)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has dedicatedly read through to the end! I love your comments and messages, they are always heartwarming and they have often inspired me to take this story in a different direction than what I had planned, only to make it even better. 
> 
> Sending you all Christmas wishes that last year round ;) <3 xxx

**Author's Note:**

> The title and idea for this fic was inspired by the song "Mistress Claus" by Alyssa Reid ^^
> 
> I've added this to a collection for Petyr/Sansa Christmas fics! All I want for Christmas is for these two to just get it on, so if you're inspired to write a Christmas/holiday/winter creepyship fic, please add it to the collection "A Creepyship Christmas" :)


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